Out of Reach
by Shuro Yuu
Summary: Alphonse is so like his brother, so then, will he make the same mistakes? RoyxAl


Ficlet

The heat was sweltering. Summer had come full force not a week ago and already at noon, the sun could fry an egg. Good God, what had possessed Ed to wear those uncommonly tight lather pants? How could he **stand** it? He tugged the collar of his coat and sighed. 

It'd been so long since he'd been in a train.

Alphonse looked out of the train window on his seat and watched as the landscape gradually changed from country to city. Green pastures gave way to dirt roads, then to paved streets, then to well-structured buildings.

He was on his way back to central.

With a sigh, he pulled out a silver watch from his pocket and gazed down at it thoughtfully. It still gleamed and sparkled, as if they'd just presented it to him. He could remember the day Mr. Mustang had presented it to him.

It had been the first time he'd met the man. Even though he knew, intellectually that he'd known the man before; he had no memory of their acquaintance. That first day had been full of questions and nerves. What had he been like in the armor? What was his brother like? Had his brother still been hell bent on ignoring everyone and breaking all the rules?

Mr. Mustang had only gazed at him with a dark eye, the eye patch giving him a sterner disposition. "FullMetal was a wild card. But all he did, he did for you." he'd said. Some sort of comprehension had flashed in those midnight depths, but it was quickly masked. 

Alphonse shook his head and fingered the watch carefully. He knew its contents, but for the life of him, he could remember nothing. No pang of grief, no traces of melancholy memory.

Don't forget Oct. 3

He felt guilt well up in his heart. "I'm sorry Brother, I can't remember." and that lead to other thoughts. Lead him down a path he knew all too well; of dark nights crying himself to sleep, trying desperately to remember something, _anything_ from that time. He tried to comfort himself with the memories he had; of his brother's golden eyes as they'd gazed at him with laughter glinting in their depths. Memories of that reckless grin he'd flash right before almost breaking his neck.

All he had now was a single picture. A picture he hated for its rarity and simplicity. There they stood; him glinting silver in the sun, his brother; mouth grim, eyes cold and hard.

He traced the picture his brother's face gently, "I miss you brother."

The train jolted him out of his thoughts and he scrambled to get out of the compartment. He had some more questions for Mr. Mustang.

He was shown into a small office where Mr. Mustang sat behind a desk.

He looked up with a bored expression, his one good eye taking in his garb and making his lips twitch, "It's been a long time Alphonse" he said quietly.

Alphonse stepped into the room and took a seat across the small and cluttered desk. "Good afternoon … Private Mustang" the title didn't fit him. This man who had put his life, his career on the line to see this country at peace, had been reduced to nothing more that a mere private.

The injustice of it rankled Alphonse but he kept that to himself. He had more important things to deal with. Namely getting information from this once revered Colonel and State Alchemist.

That midnight black eye followed him as he walked over to a wall and leaned against it casually. "What can I do for you Alphonse?" asked the raven-haired private, his voice soft, kind. It felt wrong for some reason, and at the same time, so soothing. Al squared his shoulders, "I want you to tell me more about brother and what he was doing when he wanted to restore me."

That dark gaze never faltered, the warmth fading to be replaced by a shuttered expression, "I've already told you all I could." he murmured and pushed his chair back to stand.

Why was he always so drawn to these boys? When it had been Edward, a ball of energy and determination, he'd been drawn to that power coiled tight inside that small body. Drawn to the talent, the intelligence behind those golden eyes.

Roy found himself looking down at wide gray eyes full of determination. When had he gotten this close? When had he wanted to get closer? When was it close enough?

He leaned forward to brace his arm on the wall behind the boy and bent his head low, noses almost touching. His voice was soft when he spoke, "...I won't allow you to make the same mistakes as your brother..." That dark gaze locked with his, held him there as securely as the arm did. Alphonse looked up at him earnestly, "I appreciate your concern, but I am not my brother," he managed. He could smell the day's sweat on him from this close, could catch the faint scent of aftershave.

Roy angled his body closer, needing a closer proximity, drawn to this boy like a moth to a flame. He understood now why FullMetal was so hell-bent on restoring the body of his brother, the body of this bright boy who shone just as brightly as Edward himself.

Edward had shone like the sun, bright and fiery and unforgiving. But this boy, this child he told himself, shone like the moon, soft and ethereal. But as the moon, whose light was only a reflection of the sun's, Al's light was only a reflection of the light that burned within Ed. A close imitation, but as close as the real thing as anything could get.

Those grey eyes gazed up at him, and changed, implored him, "Please, help me find my brother." The voice, so innocent, so childlike, a total opposition to any tone Edward had ever used with him, undid him as nothing else could.

His lid lowered fractionally, and his face hovered over Al's tentatively, "I would if I could" he said honestly. "I'd do anything to return your brother" and he would.

Their lips were but a hairsbreadth apart, breath mingled, one smelling of coffee, the other of oranges. "…Mr. Mustang…"

There was silence for a moment, then a gasp, and finally, the sound of a small mewl.

The sun would burn you alive if you got too close, but the moon invites you to try and get closer, even though you know you'll never reach it.


End file.
